Thinkin'
by SingerMe
Summary: New Dodge citizen, Festus Haggen, does some thinkin'.


**Thinkin'**

I don't own these characters. I just like to spend time with them. No other profit to be had than that.

(If I'm wrong about how Festus thinks, please don't tell me. Let me have at least the illusion that I know. Thank you!)

**Time is right after Festus came to town.**

**FHFHFHFHFHFHFHFHFHFHFHFH**

Festus leaned his head back against the old oak by the side of Spring Creek and closed his eyes. His fishing pole was firmly anchored in the mud and his line was lazily drifting in the water waiting for that big ol' catfish to take the bait and clomb down on it. Of course, Festus didn't care if it did or didn't. He wasn't really out there for the fishing anyway.

No, Festus had come to Spring Creek this day for a totally different and totally unusual, at least for him, reason.

Festus came to think.

It wasn't that Festus never thought about anything, he did. In truth, though his scraggly appearance belied it, Festus was a very intelligent man and a man with deep convictions and feelings about certain things. And when one of his convictions was challenged, as one recently had, he usually retreated to a nearby saloon, found himself a shot of whiskey and thought about it.

But this time he couldn't do that. Because this time, what he wanted to think about, was quite often IN the saloon.

Ever since the hill man had met the tall, laconic US Marshal, Festus had this overwhelming feeling of being caught in quicksand. Being raised by people, who didn't really hold much with the law, and actually preferred to go against it, whenever possible, meant that Festus just naturally had a distinct distrust of anyone wearing a badge.

That was until he met Matthew Dillon. That man was unlike any other man he'd ever met and Festus just wasn't quite sure how to feel about him.

Mountain strong, brave, honest, decent, fair, willing to bend the law a little if it meant a greater justice being done, gruff when he needed to be and gentle when that was required. He was nothing like the few lawmen Festus had come up against in the past.

Of course that wasn't to say the man was perfect. He wasn't.

Take the way he treated that beautiful woman over to the saloon, Miss Kitty. It didn't take a professor to see that they had themselves a connection, but that tall, stubborn badge wearer never showed it.

Oh, he'd stop in the saloon a time or two a day and have a drink and a talk with her. And quite often they took meals together. They was even a couple times, Festus had seen him a sneaking up them saloon back stairs late at night, but he never showed no real affection for the lady in public.

A course Festus did take note of the way Matthew'd clamp down on anyone what'd harm or sass the lady, but shoot that weren't nothing any respectful feller'd do for any lady. Sides, that badge of his'n demanded he defend her honor.

Tsking, Festus shook his head. That one took some figgerin'. It weren't like the lady weren't looksome or even not proper. She was. To Festus' way of thinking, she was downright one of THE most looksomest and proper ladies in town. But if ya went by actions, her and Dillon was nothing but jes friends. Festus jes couldn't understand that. He knew if that red head looked at him the way she looked at the law man, he wouldn't turn away.

Of course, Festus rubbed his chin as he considered the thought, he weren't privy to everything, so they maybe had them some reason why they was so quiet like about their goins on. Come to think on it, he did remember Matthew sayin' something about people who was close to him being at risk. Maybe that was why he kept Miss Kitty at arm's length.  
"Ain't no tellin'." He said out loud before he realized it.

Just then the pole began to bob up and down and Festus quickly grabbed it and began to tug on the line. In no time flat, he pulled out the biggest catfish he'd seen in all his born days. Or at least it were close.

For a few minutes, he considered wrapping that un' up nice and tight and puttin' it in a bag to take back to town. That ol' scudder that called himself a doctor would be green if'n he saw this here thang. He hadn't known the old man fer too long, but he knew he liked to fish and he didn't reckon that ol' quacky quack ever got nothing this big.

Why, he figgered if'n he batted his eyes jes right, Miss Kitty might even cook it fer him. But just as he thought that, he thought better of it. This here ol' fish was a big un' alright and he prolly could sweet talk Miss Kitty inta cookin' it. But that old man they had to doctorin' folks would be sorely sad to see the biggest catfish in the creek, on somebodies dinner plate and him a knowin' he weren't the one to ketch it.

With a sigh and a shake of his head at his own folly, Festus took the hook out of the fish's mouth and set it back in the water. "Go on fishy." He urged. "Ya might as well jes go on back to waitin' fer ol' Doc to ketch ya."

As soon as the fish was out of sight, Festus grabbed his pole to put it back in the water, but then changed his mind. He didn't really want to fish no how. No, he come out there to think and think he was gonna do.

Forcin' his mind back to the subject at hand, Festus thought about that big ol' Marshal and what he'd jes said to Festus this very day. Right out of his own mouth, he upt and asked if'n he'd mind heppin' out at the jail from time to time. Him, Festus, a Haggen. Why, his pa and his dead brothers Fergus and Frank would roll over in their graves if they was to know that.

Haggen's weren't posta work for the law. They was posta work agin it. That were the natural way of things, don't ya see. As a general rule, Haggen's didn't trust no law and no law trusted them.

But somehow, that tall lawman figgered a way past all that and not only did he trust Festus, but Festus actual trusted him. He weren't sure why, and he knew it take more'n a few hours fishin' to figger it, but Festus did trust Matthew Dillon. And though it kinda went agin his grain, especial the thought of pinnin' on any sort of badge, he was gonna do what Matthew asked.

Yep, if it hair lipped a billy goat he was gonna hep Matthew out when he needed him. No matter what the rest of his folks back home might think about it, Festus was gonna do it because he was beginnin' to see that maybe his folks back home hadn't been all that right in their thinkin'.

Maybe they figgered the way they did, cause they hadn't never met no lawman like Matthew Dillon. Never got to know what folks like him, and Miss Kitty even ol' Doc were really like.

"Yep!" Festus spoke out aloud again. "They jes don't know." He slapped his hand on his leg with a smile, having finally figgered out his problem. Or at least, figgered out that he didn't have no problem. His folks back home did, but he didn't. Not no more.

Of course that didn't mean he were eager to swear on no bible or take to deputyin' permanent or nothing, but it did ease his mind some to know that when he did help out Matthew, he weren't really goin' agin his raisin'. He was jes changin' his thinkin' like his family would if they knew what he did.

With a smile of relief at having done his thinkin' and havin' figgered out the problem that weren't actual no problem at all, Festus rose from his seat on the ground, grabbed his pole and headed to his mule. Yep, he were gonna hep ol' Matthew out, cause he knowd by doin' it, he'd be heppin' himself eventual.

Once the pole was secured to his saddle, Festus mounted and turned back towards town, heart lighter and head clearer, now that he'd done his thinkin'.

The End


End file.
